“What are you doing? We can’t be out of gas already.” Reagan leaned over, probably trying to check the gauge.
“Nah. Just want to stretch my legs. Maybe grab a sweet tea or something.”
“Zach! We need to keep going. I’ve got to get to Miami.” Her voice rose an octave, the note of desperation obvious, even to him. She squeezed his arm. “Come on, we don’t have time to make unnecessary stops. Besides, I’ve been wearing the same clothes now for over twenty-four hours. I have to get to my luggage.”
“You need to loosen up, cupcake. Give me a half hour. I’ll get you to Miami. As for your clothes, let’s pick up a fresh T-shirt for you.” He swung the Mustang onto Broadway, smack dab in the middle of the bar scene in downtown Nashville, and pulled into a public lot. “Can’t drive through Nashville without hearing some live music.”
Reagan groaned and let go of his arm. The coolness he felt after she removed her hand made him wish for the contact again. Sure, he wanted to get to Miami. But he also needed her to relax a little, get comfortable around him so she’d let him in and hopefully spill her guts about where she was headed. If he were being honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind her getting a little worked up again, too. Those hiccups could be damn convenient if she’d let him kiss her again.
She’d been a lot more fun in high school. Smart, good looking, always quick with a witty reply. But her family obligations and her fear of doing or saying the wrong thing seemed like it put a damper on the fire he’d sensed within her. Her ability to rein in her emotions and always keep herself under control fascinated him. The only time he’d seen her come close to losing it was the night of that party. He knew there was a lot more to Reagan Campbell than straight A’s and a pretty face. They’d had something back then, something real. He’d always regretted he’d never had the chance to follow it through.
He parked and set the brake. “Come on, Campbell. Time to get your twang on.”
By the time he had walked around to her side of the car, she’d swiped on some lipstick and pulled her hair into a ponytail. He opened the door, and she stepped out onto the pavement.
“One sweet tea and then we’re back on the road. Deal?”
“You got it.” He twined his fingers with hers and gave a slight tug. “This way.” She didn’t pull away. He wrapped his fingers tighter around hers, leading her onto the sidewalk and toward the doors of the first place they came across. Downtown Nashville didn’t wait for nighttime to show off the music scene. Even in late afternoon, the sound of live music flowed out through the open doorway.
Zach stepped back and gestured for her to enter before him. “Ladies first.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He set his hand to the small of her back and guided her toward a seat at the half-empty bar. A wall of bottles stretched from the counter to the ceiling. Every kind of alcohol imaginable lined the shelf. A bartender zoomed by on a wheeled ladder, reaching for a bottle on one of the high shelves. Too bad Zach still had a full night of driving ahead of him. This looked like the kind of place he might be able to persuade Reagan to cut loose.
“What’ll it be, y’all?” A bartender set two cocktail napkins down in front of them.
“I’ll take a big glass of your homemade tea. How about you, Reagan?” Zach asked.
“Tea sounds great, thanks.”
“Two home teas coming right up.” The bartender turned his back and scooped some ice into a plastic cup.
The song ended, a mix of country and bluegrass, and the band started in on a slow number. A few couples shuffled around the small dance floor. Zach nudged his knee against Reagan’s and nodded toward the dance floor. “I bet you could manage a dance like this.”
She glanced at the handful of couples swaying to the lazy tempo. “I’d probably figure out a way to trip over my feet, even during a slow dance.”
“What do you do for fun when you’re not planning weddings and flying under the radar for your dad?” She had to do something to blow off some steam. Yoga? Underwater basket weaving? Trap shooting? What would a woman like Reagan do to relax? Was that word even part of her vocabulary?
Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the paper napkin. “Fun? Between work and helping out my dad, I guess I don’t have much time for fun.”
“That’s what I thought. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the stool.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She scrambled to grab onto the bar, but he caught her other hand in his and coaxed her to the dance floor.
“We’re having fun.” As he stepped onto the slightly raised floor, he drew her body close to his, wrapping his arms behind her back. They could have a lot of fun if she’d let her guard down for a bit. His hips brushed hers, and he closed what little space remained between them.
Her body tensed. “Zach, no. We should be on the highway.”
He’d never been one to live life by the shoulds. She’d always known that about him. “One tea. One dance. Come on, Reagan. Live a little.”
“I suppose it’ll take less time to give in than to fight you on this.” She sighed and settled her arms loosely around his neck. “One dance. Then back on the road.”
“Sure thing. Hell, you might even enjoy it.”
The corner of her mouth twitched into what he’d consider an almost-smile.
He brushed his nose against her hair and inhaled. Even with no shower and in the same clothes as the day before, she managed to send blood rushing toward his crotch and turn him on. More than he’d expected. Probably more than she should.
He spun them around in a slow circle and closed his eyes, letting her scent and the warmth of her curves against his chest wash over him. What the hell was he doing? The damn twinge hit his gut, and he mentally silenced the alarms going off in his head.
Reagan leaned against him, letting herself relax into him for a moment. Then her body went rigid. He pulled back enough to check her face to see if he could tell what was wrong.
“What is it?” he asked.
She didn’t say a word. Her eyes widened and a hand went to her mouth.
Hiccup.
Now? Come on diaphragm, you’ve got to be kidding me.
She covered her mouth with her hands, but the damn hiccups ripped through. Spinning away from Zach, she headed straight to the bar where her tall glass of iced tea waited for her. She took a long draw through the straw, sucking down half of the liquid, and coughed as the taste of alcohol burned down her throat.
“What’s this?”
The bartender turned from where he was filling a mug from a tap. “The house tea. Kind of like a Long Island but we call it a Nashville Nummer. You want another one?”
“No! I wanted iced tea. Straight up Lipton.”
Hiccup.
The bartender set the beer he’d been filling down and a waitress grabbed the handle and put it on her tray. “Sorry about that. Let me get you a plain tea.”
“Reagan, you okay?” Zach came up behind her and put a hand on her back.
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Of course not. I ordered a tea, too. Hell, good thing you tried it first. We wouldn’t get far tonight if I downed one of those, huh?” His attempt at a joke didn’t help.